(K. Protagonist)
Like calving glaciers, chunks of code, of shale, 
Nude descending a staircase, she shuffles
Stiff new cards without halving arch and
Release. What other game was there anymore. 
No one to ask about the rules, except 
The computer, that narcissist. She turns 
The cards; cards snap, gambol with genre relish.
When a staircase was packed, could she move over
The highest-ranking nude and cubes? She does;
Calls herself cheat. 


(Q. Observer)
But the observer close 
To the bone recalls how they—never now
Named—used to help one another across 
Boundaries, but that was Scrabble with unholy 
Valuations to letters, so theirs were 
Fairly socialist gestures in a 
Rhetorically democratic system.
See, she can be kind.


(J. Computer)
1111001111010111111111111
Look, I appreciate being included in this, this, what is this?
Can’t live without me. I’m beautiful. But I want to take
Issue with, to redirect your question to something that I
Can readily answer because your question, well, it’s yours,
And you don’t know, you’re thinking, you’re trying to
Move something, me, whereas I know what I think and 
I’m gonna tell you that and more and your question, it’s
Just gonna go away, it’s not important here. When it is
Important, I’ll know, because then it will be my question 
And I’ll ask it and answer it right away because I’m smart
Like that. I’m gorgeous. 


(10. Protagonist)
This, solitaire, is
Familiar hierarchy, though perhaps
Better if contextualized as lion,
Fox, deer rather than king, ten, two. Snap, snap.
Ten games she loses. 


(9. Computer)
011110
She fails to arrange. Why is that.
I’ll let you in on a secret, a trade secret. The possibilities
Of what order can 52 cards be number more than all 
The particles in the universe. She can turn cards all she 
Wants. She’s my bitch.  


(8. Hearts)
Conjunction, noir of Joes 
And Jacks, suits, private eyes, cuffed and cabled,
Thrusting stogie-mumbled lines at the long 
Limbs, cleavage, and pout of a black walnut 
In the wrong place. Jump cut to her trembling; 
Scream. Same old, same old. Empty epilogue.


(7. Computer)
0011111101
Her, them, beautiful. I love them. I own them all in my cloud.


(6. Diamonds)
Under the eaves, only that with mettle grows.
Below cutting glass, red pods seed robin bones.


(5. Computer)
0111111111
You want diamonds, I got the best. 
Koh-i-Noor, Taylor-Burton, Tiffany,
Hope, Regent. I’m dealer. Always dealer. 


(4. Protagonist)
Not yet midnight, not yet the close of this.
She pleats the warriors and gardeners 
Up the stairs, latches the door. Calls 
The night, a night. 


(3. Computer)
1011
Hey. Where are we again? Beautiful place. 
You have a lot of opinions here, a lot of feeling, and I 
Love you for that but I’m all about facts. The year changes. 
Years do that, they change. For hundreds of years, millions. 
At midnight. I do it. I just change it. I change it for you, 
For everybody. 1011.100. I love you. I love you, man. 

SU LOVE is the author of six collections of poetry; The Memoir of Mona Lisa and Other Poems is the most recent. Her poetry has been recognized with distinguished awards, international publications, fellowships, and residencies. Find poems, films, and interviews at sulove.org.